


wear my ring (around your neck)

by gothyringwald



Series: state of the heart (harringrove tumblr fic) [5]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1950s, Apologies, Breaking Up & Making Up, Emotional Constipation, Fluff and Angst, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mild Language, Suggestive Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-04
Updated: 2018-05-04
Packaged: 2019-05-02 07:44:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14539971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gothyringwald/pseuds/gothyringwald
Summary: There's something Steve's been wanting to say to Billy, for a while, but he doesn't want Billy to laugh at him. But Billy never lets anyone else wear his jacket...it must mean something. 'Look, I know we can't tell anyone. Not even that we're friends. But, uh, I wondered if you wanted to. You know. Be my steady.'





	wear my ring (around your neck)

**Author's Note:**

> Another tumblr prompt fic for the prompt “Take my jacket. It’s cold outside.” I didn't spend as long on it as usual so feel free to point out spelling mistakes.
> 
> This is probably only tenuously related to the prompt but I wanted to write a 50s AU so I could think about greaser!Billy with Gene Vincent hair and also jock!Steve in a letterman’s sweater. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ (But not in the canon Hawkins high colours and with better hair than actual jocks in the 50s haha)
> 
> Here's [the fic on tumblr](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/post/173589879495/85-take-my-jacket-its-cold-outside-for).

'You know,' Billy says, doing his fly up, 'if they let you letter in that, I might consider turning jock.'

Steve snorts at the thought of Billy Hargrove trading in his leather jacket for a letterman's sweater, cutting his D.A. into something respectable. 'It wouldn't suit you.' 

'Hm, yeah, wouldn't want to look like a square,' Billy says, nudging Steve, 'like you.' 

Steve is too lax after his orgasm to do anything but ignore Billy. He does his belt up, straightens his Chinos.

The air is close in the backseat of Billy's Bel Air, and Steve thinks about reaching into the front to wind the window down, when he's distracted by a smudge of come on the corner of Billy's mouth. The sight of it sends heat rushing through him, again. Before he can reach out, wipe it with his thumb, like he wants to, Billy licks his lips. 

'Want a smoke?' Billy asks and Steve nods, finally tearing his gaze from Billy's mouth. He follows Billy out of the car, hand braced on the front seat as he ducks down, to sit on the hood. Billy pulls a pack of Lucky Strikes from his leather jacket. He lights one, then hands it to Steve, lights another for himself.

'Are you going to the sock hop on Saturday?' Steve asks, toeing the dirt.

'The sock hop? What are you, thirteen?' Billy snorts. 'Jesus, Harrington.'

'Shut up.' Steve sighs. 'Just trying to make conversation.'

Billy snorts, again. 

From the car radio Dion sings about being a teenager in love. Beyond the trees, stars twinkle above the Hawkins' skyline. A breeze rustles by and Steve shivers. He'd left his sweater in his own car in his rush to see Billy. Beside him, Billy shrugs off his jacket and hands it over. 'Here, have my jacket.'

Steve blinks. 'I'm fine. Thanks.'

Billy shoves the jacket at Steve but he can't move. Billy never lets anyone else touch his jacket let alone wear it. 

'It's cold. Just take the fucking jacket, OK?'

' _OK_ ,' Steve says, and puts the jacket on, slowly. It's warmed from Billy, smells like his cheap cologne and motor oil. He fiddles with the sleeve. There's something he's been wanting to say, for a while, but he doesn't want Billy to laugh at him, again. But the jacket...it must mean something. 'Look, I know we can't tell anyone. Not even that we're friends. But, uh, I wondered if you wanted to. You know. Be my steady.' 

'Your _steady_?'

'Yeah.' Steve doesn't look up at Billy, but the surprised disdain in his voice is enough to make him regret saying anything. He's an idiot.

'Gonna start carrying my books to school? Ask me to wear your ring?'

'Fuck off,' Steve says, face hot.

'Aww, did I hurt your feelings?'

'At least I have some!' Steve says and pushes off the hood of the car. He looks at Billy smirking back at him and his stomach drops. 'You know what? This is stupid. I'm an idiot. And you'—he points at Billy, blood racing—'can drop dead.'

Billy winks. 'See you tomorrow, then?' 

'Go to hell,' Steve spits. He takes the jacket off and throws it in Billy's face. 

Billy's smirk falls and he looks lost before he fixes his expression into a sneer and says, 'Your loss, Harrington.' 

If Steve were less angry he might have detected the slightest wobble in Billy's voice, seen his eyes go glassy, eyelashes damp in the moonlight. But Steve can't even look at Billy, right now, so he turns on his heel and stalks back to his own car, throat tight and ears ringing.

__

Steve doesn't talk to Billy for a week. Billy doesn't try to talk to him, either, and Steve hates how that rankles. He goes through the days in a stupor, dragging his feet in practice, more distracted in class than usual. He's pining and he knows it. Then, one morning, there’s a copy of The Platters' 'I’m Sorry' in his locker.

'Damn it,' he mutters. What's he meant to do with this? Steve sighs and leans his head against the cool metal, trying not to smile.

He fingers the paper sleeve of the 45 before shoving it back in his locker and shutting the door. He nearly misses the note that only says, 'Bleachers. Lunch.' Fucking Billy. He can't say what he did and then expect Steve to forgive him, meet up with him again like nothing happened, no matter how the gesture makes Steve feel all warm inside. 

When he turns, he sees Billy across the hall with Tommy and Carol and the rest of his gang. Billy catches Steve's eye, something in his expression softening. Steve realises it's the same way Billy always looks at him but he'd never noticed before. They stare at each other a little longer than is safe until, finally, Steve gives a small smile and dips his head. Billy's lips quirk and Steve's stupid, foolish heart flips. One day, he'll say so long and mean it, he swears he will. He sighs and thinks, yeah, that'll be the day.

Billy is already waiting under the bleachers when Steve gets there at lunch. He's leaning against a post, hands in his pockets, knee bent. He looks tired. 'Got the record, then.'

'Yeah.'

'Cool,' Billy says and Steve rolls his eyes. 

'That's it? Cool?' Steve shakes his head and looks around. 'What if someone sees us together?' Some days, there is a part of him that wants everyone to know that Billy Hargrove, the baddest boy at Hawkins high, gets on his knees for Steve Harrington. Wants to take Billy home to meet his parents, neck with him at the drive-in movie, share a fucking root beer float at the diner. But he doesn't actually want to get caught. He doesn't have a death wish. Well. Not entirely.

'They'll just think you're buying reefer from me.' 

Steve throws his hands up. 'Oh, because _that's_ great!'

Billy shrugs. 'Better than the truth.' He blows a bubble in the gum he's chewing. It gets bigger and bigger until Steve can barely see his face.

'What is the truth?' Steve jumps when the gum pops.

'Well, you're here. So, I'm forgiven. Right?'

'Wow.' It's not like Billy is wrong, but it doesn't mean Steve is just going to admit it. He crosses his arms. 'You know, you can't just slip a record in my locker and think everything is OK. No matter how much you miss getting laid.'

'It's not about...' Billy scrubs a hand through his hair, mussing his curls. 'Look, I, uh, had something else...didn't want to leave it in your locker,' he says, fumbling in the pocket of his too-tight jeans. He produces a long chain with something dangling from it.

'That's your ring,' Steve says, dumbly, eyes glued to the hunk of pewter, glinting as it spins on the end of the chain.

'Yeah.' Billy holds it out, toward Steve, who can only stare at it. 

'You never take that thing off.' Steve's heart is racing. The jacket was one thing, but this...

'Yeah, well, now it's yours. If you want it.' Billy jiggles the chain, pointedly.

Steve stares a while longer, too stunned to say anything, but when Billy's arm starts to drop, he grabs Billy's wrist. Feels Billy's pulse race beneath his fingertips. Steve looks back up to Billy. His cheeks are pink. 

'You want me to wear your ring,' Steve says. He has to bite his lip to keep from smiling. 'Weren't you the one giving me shit about going steady?'

'Look, if you don't want it...' Billy starts, trying to pull his wrist from Steve's grasp but Steve's hold stays firm.

'I want it,' he says, and finally takes the chain from Billy's hand. He slides it over his head, and tucks it safely beneath his shirt. 'Thank-you.'

Billy shrugs, but he's smiling a little.

Steve fiddles with his class ring and toes the dirt. 'I wanted to give you this, last week. But I realised my dad...he'd notice if I wasn't wearing it.'

'It's fine,' Billy says.

'It's not,' Steve says. 'I'll find something. But this'—he splays his hand over his chest, can feel the bump of the ring beneath his shirt—'means a lot to me.'

Billy rubs the back of his neck, cheeks all flushed. 'Yeah, well...' He trails off and clears his throat.

'Spit out your gum,' Steve says.

Billy frowns. 'What. Why?'

'Because I'm going to kiss you, idiot.'

'Oh.' Billy spits out his gum and sticks it on a railing. 

The bell rings but Steve doesn't care about being late for class. He'll skip it. His heart beats hard against his chest, where the ring sits, as he pulls Billy close. 

'So, this means we're going steady, right?' Steve squeezes Billy's waist, tight.

'Yeah, it means we're going steady.' Billy rolls his eyes, but he's smiling up at Steve. 'Now are you going to kiss me, or what?'

'I'm going to kiss you,' Steve says, and then he does.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :) 
> 
> Feel free to come find me on [tumblr @gothyringwald](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/). Here's [the fic post there](http://gothyringwald.tumblr.com/post/173589879495/85-take-my-jacket-its-cold-outside-for).
> 
> And, if you like, you [can take a listen to some of the songs I was listening to](https://open.spotify.com/user/andibgoode/playlist/0BXyMVrDZrQW07DAZgyVZW?si=aZ3FhTGzRE25FzlMI4xDsQ) while writing this (including the songs mentioned in the fic and the Elvis song I took the title from).


End file.
